How it Goes
by Sebe
Summary: Sam's going downhill fast. Dean's going with him. Spoilers for unaired episodes.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: Ficlet or two based around the spoiler that Sam gets committed around 7x17. Just a way I think it could go. Just the description of the episode has me thinking it will be one of my favorites.

Summary: Sam's going downhill fast. Dean's going with him. Spoilers for unaired episodes.

**How it Goes**

Dean was trying so hard, so hard, to take care of his brother. He'd stopped drinking, they'd mostly stopped hunting, only taking the odd, easy jobs. There was no new info on the Leviathans yet, but even if there was, even if Dean hungered for that revenge like he had nothing else before, he wasn't sure Sam could've done it. No, he was sure his brother would've gotten himself killed and it was an awful choice between avenging the man who had been a father to them or trying to save the little brother falling apart next to him. It was an awful choice but, in the end, it was an easy one.

The flashes and breaks from reality had grown more and more frequent and unpredictable until Dean had finally told Sam that he needed a break. It was the only way Sam would go along with it. Even though he was clearly deteriorating, Sam wouldn't have stopped unless it had been because Dean needed to. It was easy enough to convince him with all the emotional upheaval lately and Dean did actually feel a bit of weight off his shoulders when Sam agreed. This would help, this would work. He would fix Sam, get him grounded again. He just needed a little time.

But Sam didn't get better, not at all and Dean should've known because that's how their lives went. Sam's mind couldn't be fortified by a bit of down time and encouraging words. It was like a stone slowly ebbed away by the sea; you couldn't build it back up, only watch it crumble.

But no, that was everyone else. Dean could fix him. He'd been putting Sam back together his whole life.

Sometimes Dean could hardly remember the last time Sam was completely lucid and even when he did, he didn't like to think about it. Sam had known what was happening to him. Sam's teary eyes, bloodshot and bruised looking had everything in them to let Dean know that Sam knew this was it. He wasn't coming back.

That broken, screamed raw voice trying to say goodbye to Dean, absolve them both, apologize for everything that had never been his fault to start with. Dean wouldn't let him, just wrapping himself around Sam's shaking frame and holding tight. Telling him_, 'Shut up, shut up, Sammy. Just…'_. And Sam had cried and clung to Dean and they'd both held on for hours even as Sam slipped through his fingers.

But it was okay. Dean could fix it. He could make it better, was making it better. Dean lived in his happy little world of denial, content to take care of his brother as he had his whole life. He calmed Sam down when he screamed, fed him when he wouldn't eat, talked to him when his eyes went distant, and cleaned the blood off of him when it all went wrong.

It went wrong a lot.

Dean clipped Sam's fingernails painfully close to stop the scratching, pulled Sam against him so he could bang his head against Dean's shoulder instead of the wall, bandaged the jagged wounds Sam still managed to make from the corner of the bed frame (now filed down) and the, now removed, bathroom mirror and his own teeth.

And the denial had been fine, had been working. Sam was skinnier, easily panicked, but it was pretty okay. Until it wasn't one day. When Dean had gone for a food run, only a few minutes. He couldn't take Sam with him anymore, even just in the car. If he took him out, he'd get taken away. You couldn't hide this kind of crazy.

So Dean had walked in, dropped the groceries, and tackled Sam just as he'd been pulling the shard across his neck. Sam wailed and screamed and Dean grabbed what he could reach, the bed cover, pressing it against the damage Sam had been able to make. His throat wasn't slashed, but he was bleeding and it was bad, this was all…how did it get so _bad_?

Sam threw himself against the wall, but Dean caught him, held him, trapped him. Hand pressed to the slowly bleeding throat of his baby brother, Dean held on, held on, held on. He cried right along with Sam. He didn't want to do this, he'd rather die, but he'd been skating around it for months. He couldn't take care of Sam, couldn't keep him safe. He knew what he had to do, but god…

"I'm sorry." Dean sobbed, as he put two stitches in the wound that had been too damn close on Sam's neck. "Sammy…Sorry, sorry, Sammy…"

Dean didn't let go when morning turned to night or when he led Sam by the hand to the car. Not while he drove, trying to keep Sam calm, or when he pulled up in front of the imposing building, coaxing his brother out of the car. Not when the doctor was there or the orderlies came. He sat with Sam a long time in that room, Sam's room, longer than the nurses generally allowed, talking quietly to a, once again catatonic, Sam.

Even when they finally dragged Dean away, told him he could come back tomorrow, Dean didn't let go. He held onto Sam, in that room, in that place as he made his way through the doors, back to the car. He couldn't even make it to the parking lot, numb and hurting at the same time, off balance without the literal other half of his soul.

Dean dropped to sit on the steps, waiting for visiting hours to roll around again. He watched the sunrise and waited for his brother.


	2. Part 2 Addendum

Author's Notes: I didn't exactly plan on another part to this story, but I think the first one ended up a bit more bleak than even I could stand. So here's some more educated guessing from spoilers on Sam's mental state and Cas's return with maybe a bit more hope.

Summary: Dean begrudgingly accepts an unexpected return while he watches over his broken little brother.

**How it Goes- Addendum**

"Sammy…" Dean's voice broke and he coughed, trying to play it off. He couldn't act as lost as he felt in front of Sam, it only seemed to make him worse, send him further into his head and away from Dean. So Sam continued trying to press himself ever farther into the corner of the too-small room and Dean tried to coax him out, or at least calm him down. Any longer and a torrent of nurses would rush in to sedate him which would lead to Dean trying to fight them off, which would lead to Dean being temporarily banned again and he couldn't tolerate that. It was bad enough Sam was here. Not being able to see him would drive them both right over the ever encroaching edge.

So he took a minute to collect himself, settling in front of Sam and not speaking. This provided an opening for another voice to enter.

"Can…can I help?"

An immediate flash of dread and ever present anger spiked through Dean. Castiel stood just inside the doorway looking nervous and contrite.

"Get out." Dean managed. "Get the hell out."

Dean didn't want to bring him here again. It was the last thing he wanted. But Cas was pretty much defenseless as he was, and dangerous to the general public, really. The amnesiac angel still had all his powers and none of the sense he'd once had of how to use them.

The first time Dean had been forced to bring the angel here, Sam had _screamed_, screamed like he was dying. He had clawed at his eyes like they were burning out of his head and Dean had yelled and threatened and literally thrown Cas out, punching him for good measure.

The way Sam was now, he could see Cas. Really see him in his true form; couldn't help but see him that way, actually. And the way Cas was just those few weeks ago, he didn't know how to control his grace, how to dampen it so it didn't hurt Sam. Even the angel's voice at the time had been too much for the younger Winchester to handle.

Thankfully, in the time between then and now, Cas had regained some control and this time Sam only flinched a bit at the soft words.

Cas looked torn between leaving as Dean ordered and not being able to tear himself away. Even though his memories were spotty and still fragmented, he felt he should be here. He felt responsible for these two brothers; this small family that he could never get between, but could remember being happy just to be a part of. The angel fidgeted awkwardly.

"I just…I only want to help…"

There was about to be a repeat performance of Dean's hurting hand and Cas's unharmed face when Sam made more distressed sounds, more acute, and all Dean's attention was back on his brother. Sam was scratching at his face again with carefully close-clipped nails. Dean reached out with practiced, infinite patience to carefully pull Sam's hands away before he could gouge deeper into his skin.

"Hey, hey, stop. Stop, Sammy. Shh…It's okay, Sammy. It's okay. You gotta calm down, alright?"

Sam twisted miserably, his wrists trapped by one of Dean's hands. With his other hand, Dean reached up to brush Sam's forehead. Sam reacted badly to touch, well, to everyone's except Dean's. It was one of the reasons Dean had been able to convince the nursing staff to let him in whenever he damn well wanted to be there, which was more often than not. After a moment, Sam stopped struggling quite as hard and didn't lean away from his brother. Dean sighed in relief, releasing Sam's hands and running fingers through Sam's soft hair, forcing a strained smile.

"This is my fault."

Dean didn't look at Cas, didn't stop brushing back Sam's hair. He didn't ask how the angel had known that, when he had remembered, or what exactly it was that he recalled. He didn't really care.

"Yeah, it is."

It wasn't entirely. Cas had only brought down something that was bound to fall in time anyway, but he had done it on purpose. He had done it just to _stall_ them. He had robbed Dean of whatever time he had left with his sibling and that was a hurt that would never truly heal.

"I'm sorry." The angel whispered brokenly, almost sounding close to tears. He would hardly even look at Sam and Dean was just fine with that. He didn't have the right to see the destruction he'd caused to their family, to someone who'd faced the devil and won. "I'm sorry…"

Dean just kept trying to soothe Sam. He was calming down, one bone-thin hand now wrapped around Dean's wrist while the other kept tugging at his hair.

After awhile, Sam moved the hand in his hair down to the tile floor, scratching his way across. Dean went to take hold of him, but Sam kept reaching out, kept reaching toward Cas.

Stunned, Cas looked at an equally shocked Dean. Slowly, heart in his throat, he began approaching Sam, a tense Dean scrutinizing his every move.

He crouched down next to Sam as far away as he could while still being able to reach out. Slowly, he wound his fingers around Sam's and the other let him. Cas's voice was soft in wonder.

"…Sam?"

Sam made a slightly pained sound in the back of his throat, but didn't let go.

One hand on Dean's wrist and one tangled with Cas, Sam sighed, some tension leaving his frame. Dean and Cas exchanged disbelieving, somewhat tearful expressions, but neither moved, neither let go. They clung tighter.

They didn't reach out for each other, that reconciliation was still somewhere in the future; past recovered memories, apologies, and release papers. But they were bound by Sam, content in the close circle that threatened to feel something like home.


End file.
